


Merry Mettarë

by Sincorah



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincorah/pseuds/Sincorah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good Prince Legolas looked out, on Mettarë's evening, when the snow lay round about deep and crisp and even. Or, the one-shot where Legolas is Good King Wenceslas with a romantic twist. (Mary Sue/Crack fic alert)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Mettarë

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is the most Mary-Sue-ish thing I have ever written, and it is intentionally so. There is a girl, in Middle Earth, who is an elf, who marries Legolas and lives happily ever after. Don’t like, don’t read. I do swear that none of my other works are like this, and it is more of a crack fic than anything else. Also, I have no clue what time of year BOTFA took place, so I just decided to put it a few weeks before Mettarë, which is basically Christmas in Arda. I also have no idea if/when it snows in Mirkwood and/or Erebor, but consider this an AU if it makes you feel better. I have also decided to disregard anything even remotely involving dwarrow or elven culture when it comes to weddings and engagements. And Tauriel wasn’t banished, and Thranduil is also cool with his Captain of the Guard marrying a dwarf. Screw you, canon! I originally wrote this for a friend for Christmas, but she and I had a bit of a falling out, and I never ended up giving it to her, but I may as well post it. Merry belated Christmas!

Piercing blue eyes gazed into the dark forest of Mirkwood. The crown prince stood alone that cold winter’s eve, as he looked out over his kingdom. For many hours, he had not moved an inch, an ancient sorrow in his eyes, as the sounds of laughter and merriment sounded from below. The elves of Mirkwood had much to celebrate, for the great confrontation that had begun to be called the Battle of the Five Armies had been a victory, and relations with their dwarven neighbors had been restored.

The newly crowned King Thorin had survived the battle, and the dragon sickness that had taken him was gone, leaving the newly humbled sovereign able to see past his hatred of the Elvenking enough to renew an alliance between their peoples, as well as the people of Dale. Lord Bard was glad of the opportunity for two such powerful allies in the midst of the turmoil surrounding his sudden ascension to leader of the men of Laketown.

Now, the alliance between the three kingdoms had resulted in peace and plenty for all, and the elves were not the least of those who would celebrate. The legendary wine flowed like water this night, and they feasted freely, for it was also Mettarë, and all had joy. All save the prince, who had retreated from the festivities as soon as he politely could, not wanting to cause offense to his father’s guests by appearing unwilling to be in their presence.

It was not as though he was not joyful that the battle had been won, nor was he ungrateful that he, his father, Tauriel, and the nobility of both the dwarves and the men had survived. He merely felt sorrow in his heart as well. Over the weeks following the battle, as they had assisted the men and dwarves with the cleaning, the healing, and the rebuilding that followed any war, he had attempted to deceive himself into thinking it was only sorrow for the elves that had been lost in the battle, but he knew the truth in his heart.

Tauriel, his friend, his confidante, the joy of his life, had sworn her heart to another. To a mortal, no less, and a dwarf on top of that. Legolas had to admit, at least to himself, that it pained him, to have been so rejected. Slowly, over the course of many years, his feelings for the fiery-haired captain had evolved from that of a friend to that of a lover, and he had nearly been prepared to express his feelings when the dwarves of Erebor had come into the forest.

It had been then, as he watched her fall in love with the brash young dwarf prince, dark of hair and eye, that he knew he would have no place in her heart. She may love him as a friend, but she would never _love_ him, as he desired. He had resolved to bear it in silence, doing what he could to support her, and held his tongue, even when she went against his own father. When Thranduil would have killed her for drawing a weapon upon him, Legolas had stood between the irate king and the furious captain, promising his own life would need to be taken, if his father wanted hers, and he was content.

However, when the battle had ended, when both young Durin princes were both somehow, miraculously, alive, the elven prince had finally accepted the love between his friend and the young dwarf prince. It was obvious that Yavanna had destined these two for each other, despite the differences between the races, and Legolas could not begrudge their love. So he had stood in his father’s place at the swearing ceremony, even as Prince Fíli stood in the place of his uncle, though that was because Thorin had been gravely wounded in the battle, and was not yet recovered enough to attend. Legolas secretly believed that the young dwarf princes were too terrified to tell their uncle that Kíli intended to marry an elf, and had simply not informed him of anything. Mithrandir had been asked to preside over the occasion, and as he bound their hands together with a ribbon to signify their vows to wed in one year’s time, Legolas felt only happiness for his friend.

Now though, alone in thought and person, the prince felt a loneliness about his heart, and though he knew he was yet young, he wondered if he would ever find the one destined to hold his heart, even as he would hold hers. Doubt had begun to enter his heart. At the least, he was content. His people were safe and well, the threat of the dragon that had lingered for many years was gone, and his father had seemed of a better mood since the prince had decided to stay, at least for a while. He still felt that soon, his path would take him beyond this forest that was his home, and into the world of Men, but it would not yet be for a short time yet.

His sharp hearing picked up footsteps behind him, and he knew without turning who approached. The quick, light, silent to any who were not Elf-kind, steps could only belong to one elleth. “Tauriel” he acknowledged softly, as she drifted quietly to his side.

“I worried for you alone up here, mellon. Why do you not celebrate with our people? Even when you remained at table, you did not seem joyous. Tell me what troubles your heart.”

The prince managed a smile at his old friend, but shook his head slightly. “What lies upon my heart cannot be so easily repaired, mellon nin. But you should be enjoying the feast as well. Do you not rejoice in the survival of your husband-to-be?” Tauriel gave a small smile of her own at that, but did not respond, simply joining him in his silent vigil, wordlessly declaring her loyalty as a friend once again.

Time passed, and the voices from below ebbed and flowed, rising at times, and quieting at others, but it would take more than the several hours that had already transpired for the elves to succumb to the wine, even one so strong as the Dorwinion. The silence grew too much, and the captain spoke again, “Indeed, I am very grateful that meleth nin survived, and I look forward to our union with great joy. Yet I wonder, hath any elleth caught your eye, ernil nin?”

Legolas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then shook his head in silent denial. “I sense that may be part of what troubles you. Am I wrong?” The prince shook his head again, mildly amused at her foresight. “You need not be troubled, mellon. The One Yavanna has planned for you will come, in the right timing.”

The prince turned to her then, arching a brow in a manner eerily similar to his father’s, and asked, “What would you know of it? You are wedding a dwarf!” Both smirked at that, and returned their gazes to the wintry night before them. Legolas narrowed his eyes at a dark shape, a great distance away, and barely discernible through the trees, even to his gaze. It moved, and he realized it was an elf, alone in the cold night, appearing to be gathering sticks from the ground.

He was able to make out the face, and she appeared to be female, but he was unfamiliar with her, and so he turned to the captain, who had also caught sight of the silhouette. “Yonder elleth, who is she? Where and what her dwelling?” the elf prince asked of the captain, looking curiously at one so brave, or perhaps foolish, to venture outdoors in what was quickly becoming a blizzard. While the night had started calm, merely cool, the winds had begun to rise, and a light snow had begun. It would clearly only become worse, and the stranger had to know it.

“Sire, she lives a good league hence, underneath the Lonely Mountain. Her dwelling is right against the forest fence, by Lord Bard’s fountain.” The fount had been built as an honor to Lord Bard by the finest stoneworkers of Erebor, in thanks for his slaying of the dragon, only two weeks before. It had been rumored to be nearby to the home of a lone elf, who kept to himself, but none could prove the rumors, at least among Men. Now the prince glanced at his companion, wondering how she had found the truth herself, well enough to recognize the one who there dwelt.

Legolas turned and listened once more to the raucous laughter and merrymaking of the elves far below, and then turned back to the Captain with a new light in his eyes. “Bring _lembas_ and wine, and several small pine logs. Thou and I shall see her dine, when we bring them to her.” Tauriel grinned mirthfully, knowing that the prince had no desire to sit idly any longer when there was something to be _done_ , and quickly complied.

Thus did the Crown Prince and Captain of the Guard of the Elvenking’s forces go forth into the bitter cold of the night, bearing their light burdens with ease. Tauriel glanced once toward the sky in mild trepidation, and then met the eyes of her prince, reading there the same knowledge, that the storm would only worsen as the night wore on. Still, neither mentioned it, and they ventured on with no further hesitation.

They moved unerringly toward the mountain, light and swift enough of foot to travel above the snow, making good time as they ran to try to find the lone elleth before the night could worsen yet further. However, as the night wore on, a strange weariness fell about them, and the Captain was stunned to realize that her body had begun to register a feeling that could be considered ‘cold’. Elves were said not to feel the cold, which was true, or at the least, had been. Tauriel was surprised and confused beyond words at the strange sensation, but she did not want to deter Legolas when he was so determined to find the stranger, and so she remained silent for a time.

However, as the night continued to darken around them, the storm became even worse, and finally, after stumbling and sinking deep into the snow drifts for the countless time, the brave captain spoke up, extremely bewildered at her body’s betrayal. “Sire the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger. Fails my heart I know not how, I can go no longer.”

The prince turned to her with concern in his eyes, and realized that some unknown dark power must have sapped her strength, slowly, and unnoticed. He looked behind, the way they had come, but the path had darkened, and the wind seemed to howl even louder that way. As far as they had come, both knew that they could only go forward, as they would reach shelter far sooner ahead than to try to return to the Elvenking’s halls now.

Legolas remembered an old, old tale his father had told him once, many years ago, when he was but an elfling, and the prince wondered if there could have been any truth to the old legend. He caught Tauriel’s eyes, and said gently, "Mark my footsteps, mellon nin. Tread thou in them boldly; thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly." The she-elf appeared skeptical, but she trusted Legolas greatly, and so she walked directly behind him. Though both walked above the snow rather than trudging through it, there were still light indents to mark where their steps had fallen, and she paced where he had trod.

Tauriel gasped as she felt heat seeming to emanate from his very footprints, in the snow as they were. When she informed Legolas, they were both astounded, and wondered to themselves if Aiwendil had decided to place a spell upon the very forest floor. Nonetheless, grateful for the blessing, and willing to take it as a gift of Yavanna, both elves continued on their way, newly refreshed and revitalized.

Not half an hour later, they approached a small cottage on the very borders of the forest, appearing to be ‘underneath the mountain’ indeed, and relief overtook their hearts, as they quickened their steps for the last stretch. As they came near, a figure visible through one of the windows moved, and seconds later the door swung open, and the owner of the home gestured them inside quickly.

The figure, slender, though well-bundled in a warm cloak, closed the door behind her guests before turning to face them. Bright, sharp hazel eyes took in their appearances closely, as the elf swept her shimmering dark brown hair behind her absently. “What on Arda did you think you were doing out in this weather?!” she finally demanded, when the intruders remained silent, simply looking at her curiously.

Legolas straightened to his full height then, his eyes narrowing as he heard the tone which was a far cry from the abject respect he received from all his subjects save Tauriel. “I am Legolas Thranduilíon, Prince of the Greenwood, and of you, híril nín.” Her eyes widened in shock at this, and she actually seemed rather flustered for a moment before recovering her poise swiftly. She bowed gracefully from the waist, in a sweeping movement that did not hide her lingering surprise.

“Well then, erníl nín, híril nín, it is an honor to meet you both! However, prince or no, you still showed folly by venturing out in this weather. If you left the Elvenking’s halls early evening, you should have known the storm was coming. Why would you do this?” she asked, respectfully, but not backing down. She would not be cowed; Prince or not, they could have come to harm in such a blizzard!

Surprisingly, instead of showing anger at her forthrightness, the elven prince actually smiled, causing his brilliant blue eyes to glitter in amusement. The solemn captain could not keep her lips from turning up a bit as well. The honest bluntness was a welcome change to all the groveling and fawning of the courtiers as they lied through their teeth in the palace.

The tall, fierce looking red haired elleth stepped forward then, addressing the slightly shorter female. “We did know of the coming storm, yet Prince Legolas insisted we continue on our course. We caught sight of you gathering stray sticks for firewood, and we felt that none should be alone and cold on the eve of Mettarë.” As she spoke, she pulled her pack from her back, handing it to the surprised elf before her. “We come bearing lembas and wine, as well as some extra firewood for you.”

The prince and captain both smiled at the renewed surprise bordering on shock on their impromptu host’s face at that. “H-Hír nin? Why would you do this? I am but a lowly elleth, hardly of any great import to you or your father.” But the silver haired elf shook his head, his visage becoming suddenly stern. “None belonging to my kingdom is seen as lowly or of less worth than another. You are one of my people; do not believe yourself below any other elf dwelling in the Greenwood.” Overwhelmed, the dark haired elf could only smile somewhat shakily and nod several times.

Tauriel spoke again then, drawing her attention once more. “Forgive our rudeness, híril, for we have intruded into your home and still have yet to learn your name. I am Tauriel, Captain of the King’s Guard, at your service.” Their host’s smile widened a bit at that, though she still seemed surprised at the crown prince and captain of the guard standing in her humble home, and she responded politely, “I am called Sawen, at your service.”

While the winds howled and the storm raged outside the sturdy walls, the three Eldar conversed quietly about many things in the warmth and shelter of Sawen’s home. As the evening wore on, Tauriel grew quieter, and eventually withdrew from the prince and their host, a small smile playing about her lips as she observed their interactions. They had hit it off almost immediately, and the prince had taken to her in a way that the captain had not seen in all her years with him. Their soft voices became a lull in the background, and the captain turned her gaze out the small window, toward Erebor and her heart.

*** 50 Years Later ***

Once again, the same piercing blue eyes gazed into the dark of the forest of Mirkwood. Yet this time, the crown prince of the Greenwood did not stand alone. A shorter, slimmer elf stood in front of him, his arms wrapped gently around her as they looked into the stars together. This Mettarë, the weather was as calm as could be, and it was clear to the elves that there would be no storm this year. Sawen leaned back into the prince slightly, enjoying the warmth and physical contact. He rested his chin on her shoulder, murmuring softly, “Do you remember when first we met?”

She turned in his arms to face him then, looking into his eyes with a soft humor glinting within hers. She had never found such joy as she did when she was with Legolas, and though it had taken many years for him to convince her to move to the Elvenking’s halls, she had eventually acquiesced, if only to be able to spend more time with the one who was quickly changing from a friend to something much closer to her.

“Of course. And, prince or no, you _still_ showed great folly in venturing out in such a storm.” That elicited a chuckle from the male elf, and he shook his head slightly before drawing her even closer into his embrace. He whispered softly to her, gazing into her shimmering eyes, “I have never been so wise, for through my actions that day, I met you.” As Sawen leaned up and gently kissed her prince, the stars twinkled over the lovers on that cold winter’s night.


End file.
